Last night I cried over a town. I stood on a roof with people who love me and I danced and laughed and cried.
I said goodbye.
I cried over seven years. I cried over this place has been.
I cried over what this place thankfully never became.
I thought through the life I had found here. The life that found me here.
I cried over a place that has become so much more than a place to me. We love places because they hold time. Places are special because they are the tangible evidence of becoming. of growing. of making.
So Athens, I feel like we should talk.
You’re a special place. But it’s more than that.
I’ve spent seven of the craziest, most life-filled years here. It’s almost overwhelming to reflect on and see how much I’ve changed. The things that I have experienced. All that I owe to you.
See, your bars and restaurants gave me dinners and brunches. Nights with parties and impromptu karaoke. Concerts and shows.
Days at brewery and nights on the roofs.
I’ve seen amazing shows and met unbelievable artists.
Dancing in places I’m not cool enough for and singing to songs I couldn’t begin to know.
I’ve eaten more good food than I ever thought possible. From world-renowned chefs, and local homegrown legends. A town full of five stars indeed.
I’ve gorged at dining halls with more friends than I’ve deserved.
I’ve been in crowded bars and I’ve been at desolate dives.
I’ve met the most interesting people on their smoke breaks, study breaks, and life breaks.
Your libraries and classrooms gave me a career. Two degrees.
Your books taught me I could write.
Your professors taught me that I could do more than I thought.
They gave me the hardest challenges I’ve ever experienced. They made me doubt.
But they also gave me the confidence that I was smarter than I thought. That I had a voice. That I was more capable than I dreamed.
I learned a lot.
Mostly though, I learned that I’ll never learn enough.
That wanting to seek more questions will always be more important than seeking more answers.
Your stadium gave me the most fun I’ve ever had.
Your plays have frustrated me. I’ve screamed and cursed and overreacted.
You players have inspired me.
I’ve bonded with strangers.
I’ve fought with strangers.
I’ve gotten goose bumps at the sound of a trumpet.
Your coaches have taught me what matters, and what doesn’t.
And your team is firmly rooted in my heart.
Your long streets and late nights gave me time to think, and time to hurt.
I don’t know when I started my drives, but they became so crucial.
When I couldn’t sleep. When I could.
When I was hurting or confused.
You didn’t judge my mistakes.
I’d drive and forgive. I’d drive and regret.
It would be quiet and still. The precious dawn hours after closing but before carpool.
I’d drive all your streets
I’d relax. I’d think. Maybe cry.
I’d find both our hidden places.
Your landscape gave me adventures.
You gave me rope swings and hikes.
an Arch, a fountain, and a trifecta
Bridges, ruins, railroads.
River days and water tower nights.
Skylines and sunrises.
Hammocks and sunsets.
Christmas lights and street lights.
But all of that, even all of that could never compare to your greatest gift. Your most lavish of rewards, a spoiling beyond any expectation: the people who made this place my home.
Oh the people. Athens, the amazing people.
The people you’ve given me.
I can never stop thanking you for them. My best friends. My family. My people. You gave me the beat to my heart.
You introduced me to the people who introduced me to myself. And I can never repay you for that.
People who challenge me, love me, care for me.
They’ve cheered with me. They’ve partied with me. They’ve wiped tears. They’ve died laughing. They’ve understood in silence.
You given me people I disagree with and challenge me. And you people who understand me and support me.
You’ve given me the people who’d break my heart.
And you’ve given the people who’d mend it.
I can’t write all about what they are to me. I can’t put down all the memories.
Only that they are. I just need to say how thankful I am for them.
When I think of you, I think of them.
They are the reason I love you.
See, I love your city streets and your bricks and mortar not because of what they are. They are just buildings and places.
I love them because what they’ve given me.
You gave me such important years of my life.
Such hard years of my life.
Amazing years.
You gave me love. You gave me hard work. And you’ve given me what I need now, the confidence to know that I can do it all again. Find a new chapter. I can start anew; I can grow and change and learn once more.
You took my most formative years and handled them with care. You took an unsure, scared, confused 18 year old kid and made her into a 26 year old woman who knows the kind of life she wants and why she wants it. Maybe not how life will go of course, but what kind of person she wants to be when it does. Who knows now that she doesn’t have to always know. She can handle what comes, whatever it might be. That she’s strong. She’s capable. And she can live in the world on her own. In a world her own.
So when someone asks me why this my favorite place, sweet city, I’ll tell them because you gave me so much more than a few degrees and couple memories.
Athena, you wise, wise woman: You gave me myself.
So I’ll come back. But in a way, I’ll never leave. Because you made a part of me when I go. And to that I say, Glory, Glory indeed.
